


The Intern.

by springburn



Series: The Thick of It mini-fics [55]
Category: The Thick of It (TV)
Genre: Attraction, Explicit Language, F/M, Friendship, Humour, Laughter, Political Satire, Relationships (established)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-26
Updated: 2016-06-26
Packaged: 2018-07-18 05:45:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7301830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/springburn/pseuds/springburn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Malcolm and Jamie are perusing the CV's of the latest crop of interns. They are all men, and there are only a couple that look even worth seeing. It's all very depressing. </p><p>But everything changes when the most promising candidate is ushered in......</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Intern.

**Author's Note:**

> This was a prompt by my wonderful friend @misswinterseat which she gave me to cheer me up. 
> 
> It worked! 
> 
>  
> 
> _"My fair lady au. Malcolm and Jamie having a bet on making someone from the street and ideal type for 'the men's world' even if that someone is wearing a skirt."_
> 
>  
> 
> So I've altered the prompt slightly, to make the Pygmalion idea a little more modern and topical for The Thick of It scenario. 
> 
> This story fits into the Shitstorm AU, in that it is after the General Election and into the two year hiatus period of the show. When we don't really know what happened. Malcolm and Sam are still in a long term relationship. 
> 
> Jamie is there, even though he wasn't in the actual show at this time, but he is an integral part for me, and I like writing him and Malcolm as close friends and brothers in arms. 
> 
> I'm aware that the female character is a bit like Pearl. But I swear that I didn't have her in mind when I wrote the character! It's purely coincidental. 
> 
> This is a light story, with plenty of humour and banter. If there are any colloquialisms or slang I use that you don't recognise, don't hesitate to message me. I've tried not to go too OTT with the cockney, as it's difficult for overseas readers to decipher! 
> 
>  
> 
> Thank you @misswinterseat this one's for you. Xxx

THE INTERN.

Jamie McDonald barged into the office of his friend and colleague with a pile of files tucked under one arm. 

"Malc, have you seen these fucking........"

Sam was standing behind Malcolm's chair, her hands gently massaging his shoulders. 

He stopped dead in his tracks.

"No one ever fucking knocks!" Malcolm remarked lazily, grimacing as Sam reached a particularly sore spot.  
She seemed totally unfazed. 

"Shit......sorry pal......."

"Jesus Jamie! It's usually fucking Baldymort who walks in on us when we're snogging......I'm beginning to think I should put a bloody sign on the door......like they have in hotels. 'Do Not Disturb' 'Please make up my Room' or just 'Fuck the Fuck Off!' " 

He batted Sam away dismissively and rotated his shoulders, bending his head from side to side experimentally. 

"Better love......thanks, I'll thank you properly later!" He smirked, and gave a wink. Sam blushed furiously, but recovered herself with a playful thump to his arm. 

"You two boys want coffee?" She asked, as she rounded the desk, and made to leave. 

"Great Sam.....thanks!" Jamie replied, also colouring slightly under her intense gaze. 

Once the door closed behind her, McDonald turned back to his friend. 

"Lucky fucker! You two seem so great......" He observed. 

Malcolm busied himself with the contents of his desk drawers without comment or acknowledgement.

"What did you come waltzing in here for exactly? What was it you wanted me to see?" He asked, shutting the drawer with a sharp snap and sitting back in his chair. 

"The CV's. Of this summer's crop of interns. Fucking hell! Why do they send us these cunts? Fucking rubbish." 

"What, all of them?" Malcolm raised his arms behind his head and brought his feet up onto the desk in front of him. 

Interns were sent to them every year. Graduates mostly. To give aspiring journalists a flavour of PR and journalism in Government. This was the first year they'd been in Opposition, but the deal was pretty much the same. 

"Well, there are a couple that look okay. They're all men though. Which makes me fucking spit! But hey....what do I know? I guess you can't blame the girls for not wanting to do this crappy job, but Jesus! Gender equality and all that! Be nice to have a couple of women at least applying!"

Malcolm chuckled. 

"Who'd want to work with a couple of grizzled old ex hacks like us! We're dinosaurs!" 

"Speak for your fucking self you miserable bastard!" He took the seat opposite his Caledonian compadre, as Sam reentered bearing a tray. 

"The new interns are all assembling in reception......you've got a few minutes....then shall I start by sending in the first one?"

Malcolm leaned forward and picked up the topmost file, opening and perusing it with narrowed eyes, before continuing to the next.

"Christ! I see what you mean!" He groaned, after scanning for several seconds. Flinging a few to one side he made two stacks......then glanced up to see Jamie watching him in confusion. 

"Come the fuck in!" He pointed to the left pile. 

"And fuck the fuck off!" Indicating the right. 

Jamie roared with laughter. 

oOo

_Intercom......_

_"Sam! Send in the first guy......we'll start with the most promising first......send in Alex Davies."_

_"Okay Malcolm!"_

"Alex Davies? Mr Tucker will see you now. Do go through!" 

Malcolm thought he detected a slight hint of mirth in his PA's voice, but he shrugged it off. 

Turning to Jamie, now seated beside him, he passed the relevant CV over to him. 

"This one looks by far the best, an real East Ender by the look of it, born and bred, lives in Bow. Didn't get the right exam results, but has worked on a local paper....went there off his own bat....started just as a tea boy pretty much, but has worked on a couple of good stories which received high praise, has also done some volunteer charity work on a school project in Africa." 

Jamie frowned.

"I'd take that above poxy exam results and a degree any day. You can't beat real life, and being on the job, so to speak. Seems really keen! Makes a fucking change." 

The door opened slowly to admit the opening candidate. 

Small and slim. Five foot two if she was an inch. But with high wedge shoes. Pencil skirt, smart blouse and an attractive tribal style necklace and bracelets, which jingled slightly as she walked.  
Long black hair cascading half way down her back. Framing her face in a mass of corkscrew curls. Dark ebony skin, the deepest brown eyes.  
A dazzling smile. 

Jamie gaped unashamedly as she moved into the room, walking forwards confidently with her hand outstretched.  
"Mister Tucka ?" 

Malcolm rose to his feet, and gave his hand in return. Somewhat bemused. 

Catching his air of confusion, she stepped back slightly. 

"Sommin' wrong?" She asked, gazing at him with a degree of puzzlement. 

"I.....er......we were.....um.......Alex? Short for Alexandra I'm guessing?" He enquired, smiling a little. 

"Yeah! Oh, Christ! You fort I was a bloke!" Her laugh was a merry tinkle, wide and open, and genuine.

"Assumption. The mother of all fuck up's." Malcolm stated. "Have a chair Miss Davies. Coffee?" 

"Yeah, ta. White please, no sugar." Seating herself, she crossing her legs neatly. 

"Your CV impressed me. You went to the Ilford Recorder?" He opened her file again, balancing it on his knees. 

"Yeah. Dit'nt wanna go to uni but wanted to be a reporter. So I went darn there and asked if they 'ad any jobs. They said they 'adn't but I should try again later. Fobbing me off really. Anyway then I joined the charity thing an' went to Malawi. But soon as I got back I turned up at the Recorder again. 'Spect they fort they'd got rid of me!" 

Jamie leaned forwards in his seat, chewing his pen thoughtfully. 

"Why do ye want to work here particularly? It's not like working for a paper and it's a fucking tough gig. We don't get many girls applying." 

With a perfunctory toss of her curls the young woman laughed. 

"Because it's good experience. The best. An' I fink I can handle it. If I can carry a hod full of bricks and lug blinking great breeze blocks from A to B in one hundred degree heat in Africa, I fink I can handle a coupla politicians!" 

Malcolm smiled.

"Yes I think you probably can." He said. 

oOo

"Well, what do you think?" 

Jamie and Malcolm were ensconced together, interviews finished. 

His friend stretched himself and yawned expansively and began idly peeling a satsuma. Nonchalantly popping a segment into his mouth. Chewing the cud thoughtfully. 

"No fucking contest. Alex Davies. She's smart, sassy and she's got balls." 

"Yeah!" His friend agreed. "Oddly, more fucking balls than all the men we saw put together." 

Malcolm scoffed. 

"They weren't men! They were boys! There wasn't a fucking descended testicle amongst them." He threw the orange peel into the bin, from where he stood ten feet away.  
It plopped plum into the centre of the wicker basket and he gave silent cheer and a little fist pump. 

"Pretty girl. Nice tits too!" Jamie observed matter of factly.

"Bloody hell, Jamie. What's wrong with you? So fucking sexist! It's the 21st century for fucks sake. You don't give someone a job because she's got nice jugs.....or because you fancy her! You dirty fucker! You're old enough to be her father for a start, and she could look like the back end of a bus.......it's whether she's the best person that matters." 

"You're old enough to be Sam's father......." He retorted, grinning widely.

"Shut the fuck up!" 

Jamie started to laugh out loud. 

oOo

"So, this morning we have Our Magnificent Prime Minister speaking at a meeting of The Students Union. You up for that?" 

Alex Davies turned towards him with a bright smile, as she sipped her coffee and tucked into a croissant ravenously, as if she hadn't eaten for weeks. 

If Malcolm was honest, he'd found this woman to be a breathe of fresh air.  
Her enthusiasm reminded him of.........him! 

Before the pulp was beaten out of him, before he became bitter and twisted and cynical. 

True she sounded like Eliza Doolittle.......BEFORE her transformation by Professor Higgins, but little matter. Rex Harrison HE certainly wasn't!  
If accents were a barrier to success he would still be a junior reporter at The Glasgow Herald. 

In short he liked her. So did Sam. And Jamie was utterly smitten.  
Although Malcolm had warned him, in no uncertain terms.......no hanky-panky, or, friend or no friend, he'd come down on him like a ton of bricks. 

"I wouldn't fucking dare! Don't worry. Anyway she ain't gonna look twice at an old prat like me!" 

If there was one thing Malcolm Tucker could not abide it was misogyny and sexual harassment in the workplace.  
It was one of his soap box mantras. He was firmly of the belief that the genders should demand equal respect. He had seen so much discrimination, and the 'old boy network' prevalent in the corridors of power, frankly, disgusted him. 

An environment where secretaries routinely had their arses pinched. Or were groped at the Christmas party. Women constantly passed over in favour their male counterparts, even though they were by far the most capable and qualified for the job. 

The excuses they made rattled him to the point of apoplexy.

"But she was wearing a low cut top......" 

"No she wasn't, you cunt, she was wearing a blouse......a normal blouse......and even if she was, it still doesn't give you the right to put your fucking hands down it......"

The young intern was regarding him closely. A trail of crumbs down her jumper. 

"Penny for 'em. Mister Tucka!" 

Malcolm snapped out of his reverie. 

"Eh?" 

"You were deep in fort! Cogs turning!" 

"Oh, yeah.....right. Um.....Alex......you've got most of your pastry down your front. Maybe not a good look in front of the PM?" 

She regarded her own bosom with distain. Jamie coloured visibly, looking quickly away, and busying himself collecting his papers. 

"Oh! Cor Blimey! I'll nip to the little gals room.....back in a jiffy!" 

Malcolm smiled and shook his head at her retreating back as she dashed off to put herself to rights.  
She was gone a few moments, and returned, lipstick freshly applied still smoothing down her jumper and rearranging her necklace, which, this morning had an Egyptian pharaoh vibe to it. 

"Betta?" She enquired, her head cocked on one side. 

"Much!" He replied. "You two set?" 

"Yep. Wiv brass knobs on!" She beamed. Jamie trailed along in their wake, silent and morose.

The three left in a taxi. Seated side by side as they sped through the London streets. 

(Actually, no.....rephrase that.......as they crawled through the congested London traffic a few yards at a time! Dodging rickshaws, manic cyclists with a death wish, men on scooters weaving in and out, doing 'the knowledge', despatch riders who had a date with their own destiny and needed to reach their destination two minutes after leaving, regardless of the distance. Red buses which travelled in packs of three or four like wolves, 'white van man' for whom road signs and traffic lights were meaningless and didn't apply to them, and 'outlanders' who had absolutely no fucking clue where they were or where they were going!) 

Malcolm huffed crossly. 

"No point getting your pants in a proverbial!" Alex commented, seeing his frustration. "This is the Strand! Ain't gonna go no faster!" 

The glare that was his reply, made her burst into a spontaneous giggle. 

"Is that your bollocking face Mister Tucka?" She sniggered. 

"Only Sam told me to beware of your bollocking face......an' I've not seen it yet....least I don't fink I 'ave......but that sure looks like it might be it?" 

At her side Jamie stifled a snigger as best he could. 

How did this irascible woman have the power to melt his anger? It was clear she wasn't afraid of him, but it was much more than that.  
An unquenchable positivity.  
A flat refusal to see the bad, the sad, the glass half empty......it was most refreshing, nay, humbling, and it made Malcolm feel three fucking hundred years old. 

"So.....you got your question ready.....for the PM?" He asked, pointedly evading her enquiry.  
"And for fucks sake stop calling me Mr Tucker.....it's Malcolm. I'm not your fucking Geography teacher!" 

Her eyebrows arched slightly in surprise, but she broke into a slight smile. 

"Okay! Mowcolm it is. And yeah.....I'm ready......" 

oOo

On entering the main hall Malcolm took a bottle of mineral water from the side table, popping the lid and taking a long draft.  
Whilst Alex took her reserved seat amongst the press core, he stood away to one side, as was his normal routine.  
The overseer.  
Watching proceedings, hawklike. His eagle eye scanning, missing nothing. Ever alert and engaged. 

The students began to file in, settling themselves. Once the podium filled, introductions were made and the Prime Minister of Great Britain and Northern Ireland welcomed centre stage, to a ruffle of somewhat muted applause. 

Following an opening speech of about ten minutes, the floor was then opened to questions, both from the assembled media and the students themselves.

Malcolm listened intently, arms folded high, sipping his water from time to time. Most of the questions were very tame, generic stuff.....easily dealt with....

_"What is the government doing to help students like us who are soon to be going out into the job market?"_

"Well, I'm very glad you asked me that question......."

Oily twat. 

Good at flannel though! 

Psychobabble, all of it. Malcolm's eyes became flint hard as he digested the rhetoric. 

_"Does the government plan on making any changes to Student Loan agreements?"_

"Another excellent question, and I would like to clarify the Government's position on this, may I say, quite categorically........"

Patronising git. Did he really think he could brainwash these young minds so easily? If he did, he was a bloody fool. 

Then it was _her_ turn. 

Up she stood, her eager face alight with an inner fire. 

Malcolm took another long drink from his plastic bottle. 

_"Bearing in mind that your own Education Secretary failed to correctly answer a SATS test question aimed at 11 year olds, on national radio last week, does the Prime Minister fink that Primary School testing is no more than a box ticking exercise for bureaucrats, being, at best a snapshot of a child's ability on one specific day?"_

Water sprayed from Malcolm's mouth. Down his chin, down his tie. A coughing fit. 

The lady standing next to him began to smack his back hard, as he spluttered and dribbled. 

"Fucking fuck me!"

Looking up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he saw the PM's face change, panic behind the eyes. No.......better than that, Malcolm observed him virtually soiling himself. Right there on the spot. 

This was the best thing he'd seen and heard for many a long day. 

From a few feet away, he could also see Jamie's face. Reminiscent of a dumbstruck haddock. Eyes wide, mouth agape. 

God! Made you glad to be alive! 

"I......er......well, I'm not aware.......um, I haven't heard the transcript you speak of.......so it's er.......difficult for me to um..........may I just say.......as regards the SATS testing, that we, the Government, are doing everything we can to ensure that young children get the er.....best education they possibly can......and um........" 

He continued floundering for some moments, carrying on resolutely not answering the question.  
Whilst Alex Davies, having resumed her seat, regarded him with an air of unremorseful pity. 

Malcolm thought he'd died and gone to heaven. 

Never mind that the front of his shirt and tie were wet! 

As the assembly broke up and people began to file out, Malcolm joined the young woman and held out his hand to her. 

She regarded it with some confusion, before wrapping her fingers around his own and shaking firmly.

"You've just made an old cunt very happy." He stated simply.

Her smile was tempered by embarrassment.

"Didn't really fink I'd flummox him quite like that." She admitted. "He did go all of a do da, didn't he?" 

"He fucking did!" Malcolm replied, with relish. "And it was a joy to behold!"

oOo

Jamie was sitting in the bosses' chair. Deep in thought.

He was swivelling himself from left to right. Pushing off with his feet, letting the momentum take him, then pushing back again. 

Malcolm was in a meeting. 

Had he been around Jamie would not have been thus enthroned. 

Alex knocked and entered.  
Jamie McDonald scrabbled to his feet and coloured crimson.

"Shit! Fuck! Bollocks! I thought you were Malcolm." He breathed.

"Are you that scared of him then?" She asked quietly, with some amusement. 

"Me? Fuck no! It's just........" 

His older colleague entered behind her at that moment.

"Caught you sitting in my chair again has she?" He remarked, giving his friend a blazing stare.

"Fuck! Malc! I was only......"

"Swivelling?" Malcolm finished the sentence.

"Oh shut up, you old fucker, so what if I was!" Jamie resigned himself to being admonished.

Instead Malcolm laughed heartily at his oldest friend's discomfiture. 

"Well!" He said, changing his focus towards Alex. "Lunch today. As its your last day. You, me, Jamie and Sam. It's on me......."

"Oooo! Fab! Do I get to choose?" She clapped her hands together animatedly. 

"Nah. 'Fraid not! Sam's already booked it. It's a good place though....all the celebs go there!"

The door opened again at that moment and Malcolm's PA joined them. 

Malcolm held an arm up towards her and Sam snuck underneath it, drawing close to his chest.  
"Here she is!" Their eyes met with such warmth that Jamie found himself smiling.  
Dropping a kiss on her brow, he released her gently and turned back to the others. 

"I've a bit of a surprise for you too Alex........" He added.

Sam beamed up at her lover, her face shining in anticipation. She knew what was coming. 

"Being as you're the best fucking intern ever to grace this sorry shit hole, I've done a bit of networking, amongst my considerable number of contacts in the field......to wit I would like to tell you there's a junior reporters job going at The Mail........" 

He held up a warning hand as Alex began to hop up and down, eyes on organ stops, her hands bought up to her face in astonishment. 

"Now, hold your fucking horses.......! The job's not yours yet, you've gotta go through the interview process along with the other candidates.....but I know the Editor, he's an old sparring partner of mine, and I've put in a good word for you.  
So......go over there.......impress the arse off him, like I know you can, like you have to me! Knock their fucking socks off!" 

Alex threw her arms around Malcolm's neck, and hugged him tight. 

"You're an absolute sweetheart Mowcolm!" She cried out, ecstatically.

"Just don't you sodding well let me down. And DON'T you go telling anyone I'm nice, it'll ruin my fucking hard earned reputation!" He retorted, with mock severity. 

"I won't! I promise! Oh Blimey Moses! This is amazin'! I'm so excited I fink a bit of wee might have come out!" 

Sam roared with laughter and both Malcolm and Jamie grimaced, then broke into smiles too. 

Alex hugged Sam next. 

"Fanks for making me feel so welcome Sam!" She said, her eyes suddenly brimming over. 

"It's my pleasure. I've enjoyed having you." She replied, with genuine warmth. 

She then turned to Jamie, who was absentmindedly fiddling with the pen and stapler on Malcolm's desk top. 

"Jamie?" Walking over, she stood in front of him, his eyes darting anywhere but at her face, his cheeks flushed. 

"Can I 'ave a hug?" She asked gently, hooking her fingers onto the lapels of his jacket. 

His arms came around her, embracing her briefly, then letting go, limbs falling limp by his sides.

"Is that it?" She asked, with an air of disappointment. 

Jamie raised his gaze to hers slowly. 

"Sorry.....hen.......I didnae want you to think......" He began. 

"Oh, kiss me you stupid berk!" She cried. "I know you've wanted to the whole time....well, now's your chance......" 

Malcolm glanced at Sam and winked expressively. 

"You mean you......?......wi' me? Fuck!" Jamie whispered in some confusion. 

Her only reply was to lean into him, up on tip toes, capturing his lips with her own.  
Closing his arms around her he finally pulled her close enough to sink into her warmth, separating only when breath became too short to continue. 

Pulling back, breathing hard, he looked into her face with incredulity. 

"Fucking fuck me!" He muttered with feeling. 

Fin.


End file.
